


Sons of Lords

by thisprentiss



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M, anyway theres a lot of description of macbeth's castle bc that's....idk how i imagine it being?, i just...am not a fan of how its always super dark and creepy in like every portrayal, not historically accurate in the Slightest, yall........have u ever considered a purer ship than malcolm/fleance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9411038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisprentiss/pseuds/thisprentiss
Summary: set the night Duncan is murdered, Fleance and Malcolm spend some time together before everything falls to shit





	

**Author's Note:**

> im in a produciton of macbeth rn and we were joking that banquo's descendants become kings because fleance and malcolm get married and. idk maybe they adopt.  
> anyway im gay and this is gay and there isn't nearly enough macbeth fan content

Macbeth's castle was beautiful.

Stained glass windows offered rainbows of light across the walls, chandeliers decorating the ceiling. There were many outside walkways, overlooking the valley just beyond, open air blowing in from the many open spaces in the walls. Everyone seemed to be so... _at peace_ in the castle, even those just arriving felt a sense of calm wash over them, the servants relaxing together as they waited for their next order.

And the good Lady Macbeth was just as pleasant as her home, dark curls cascading down her back and a bright smile lit up on her face. Her dress, a soft peach color, dragged behind her as she walked, bare feet making no sound on the stones of the floor. She greeted the King with such grace and friendliness that it seemed as if they'd known each other for an eternity.

It was Lord Banquo who noted the birds nests in the high rafters, commenting on how beautifully crisp the air was, Ross who gladly accepted a tall goblet of wine from a rather jovial servant, and Duncan who showered Lady Macbeth in praise, kissing her hand and making small talk as they walked down the hall.

Donalbain was given toys to play with and sat happily with a gentlewoman all throughout the adults' conversations. Malcolm and Fleance, since they were both over the age of seventeen, were forced to stay and converse with the other lords, though they did wind up striking a conversation of their own.

Dinner, an elaborate banquet full of delicious foods and drink, flew by quickly with all the merry talk and celebration of the end of the war. Malcolm stuck by Fleance's side the whole time, listening to him chatter about things he couldn't understand because of how loud the hall was. Lady Macbeth pronounced a toast to the king and then invited all the guests to the entertainment hall, full of couches to lounge on.

Fleance played with Donalbain for nearly an hour while his father Banquo entertained the other lords with his lute, the Macbeths cheerfully teaching a fast paced peasant's dance to their friends. Eventually, once they'd gotten a fumbling handle on it, the others began to try the dance as well, laughing and shouting and tripping over their own feet. Even Malcolm's father Duncan joined in on the festivities, letting Lady Macbeth lead him in the jig.

Caithness soon joined Banquo in the music making, taking forth a wooden chair and banging on it to imitate drums. Ross sang a bit, something in another language that no one but he could understand, and it only got louder the more everyone drank.

The noise wound up being a bit too much, and Malcolm found himself retreating to one of the outside walkways, quiet and darkness relieving the headache that was starting to form just behind his eyes.

Crickets chirped while he stared up at the clear night sky, sat up on the banister with his legs dangling over the side. The noise from inside was now faint in the background, music changing every now and then when they seemed to grow bored of that particular song.

Malcolm rested his head on the pillar beside him, eyes unfocused toward some point on the horizon, and was only vaguely aware of the footsteps from behind him.

"Fare thee well, prince?" it was Fleance. He had discarded his vest and belt and shoes, blonde hair falling over his forehead as much as was possible. And he had a blanket draped over his shoulders. Malcolm offered up a smile, yawning before answering.

"Tired, good sir," he responded, "And you?"

"Tired as well, though I stand at the gate tonight to await the arrival of Macduff and Lennox. Neither bring their children, your brother was mightily disappointed," Fleance said, hopping up on the banister next to Malcolm, "You're shaking. Cold?"

"Yes," Malcolm said quietly, feeling his cheeks going red when Fleance slid closer and unfolded the blanket so it would cover both their shoulders. "My thanks."

"'Tis an honor, my prince. You've been kind to me," Fleance said with a gentle smile. His body heat and the blanket managed to stop Malcolm's shaking, but only served to make his heart beat faster, cheeks probably getting redder. "You're warm. And you look faint, are you ill?"

Malcolm just shook his head, looking away from Fleance and picking at the edge of the blanket. Silence fell between the two of them for a long moment, before, "Have you a bride yet?"

Fleance looked up, surprised, and then gave a short, hearty laugh that sounded just like his father. "Merry, sir, my father's picked a wonderful bride for me. She's a beauty, though I don't think she's the slightest interest in me. And you?" when Fleance said that, Malcolm couldn't help but feel his heart drop.

"Oh, I-" he coughed into his hand to mask the crack of his voice, "My father is... he's a good man. I've no interest in women, he respects my wishes so long as I do not reign after his death with malice."

"No interest in women, you say?" Fleance's golden brow was raised, a slight smile quirking at the edge of his lips, "Where do your interests lie then, prince?"

"I suppose... well..." Malcolm could only muster up a shrug. Then he shook his head. "I believe we should return to our families. They'll be carousing to the second cock if we do not intervene."

Before he could climb off the banister, though, Malcolm found his face cupped between Fleance's hands, a soft pair of lips on his. After the initial shock, he closed his eyes and returned the kiss, letting himself melt against Fleance with a sigh.

Once they broke apart, both were smiling.

"You're right, prince. We best force our parents to bed. And I've a gate to watch."


End file.
